


The Four Maidens

by Hatswithpompoms



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, RWBY: World of Remnant The Four Maidens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatswithpompoms/pseuds/Hatswithpompoms
Summary: In a crooked shack in the middle of the forest, a lonely wizard sits lost in his memories, until one day he sees a woman sitting under his tree.A retelling of the tale of the four maidens from Ozma's perspective. I'm not sure if this has been done before, but it is something I've had in my head for a while.
Relationships: Ozma & His Children, Ozma & The Four Maidens, Ozma/Salem (RWBY)
Kudos: 4





	The Four Maidens

**Author's Note:**

> Any parts you recognise have been taken from the World of Remnant titled 'The Four Maidens'.

Ozma sat in the empty room that was his home. Dust hung thick in the air. His chair, years old and weary, creaked as he shifted and if it were anywhere but the old house it surely would have been thrown away already. But here, with the sunken bed and the rusted sink, it fit right in. In the quiet.

It wasn’t that he liked it. Silence seemed to so quickly fill with the voices of the past anytime it settled around him. But the quiet was better than the noise of the world outside. He tapped his fingers, creaked the chair, hummed old lullabies. Sometimes he told stories to the mice living under the floorboards. But not often, stories had the habit of inviting silence to follow them. And silence brought memories. 

One morning, he sat studying the patterns on his floor when he heard a rustle. Outside a beautiful woman sat serenely under the tree. Soft white hair fell about her shoulders in waves and her dress pooled in a glimmering mass of silver and blue. He opened the window, and she opened her eyes and looked up.

“Hello,” she said.

He returned the greeting and asked what she was doing under his tree.

“My name is Winter,” she told him, “I am on a journey and I am waiting for my sisters.” Then she returned to her previous state.

He watched her sit and wondered what the point could be in sitting and doing nothing when one was so young and ignorant. But she seemed peaceful. Her eyelids barely flickered, and her chest rose and fell in even breaths. He wondered how peace like that was achieved. He wondered if he could ever feel it again. Pondering this he leaned back in his chair and watched the clouds drift by.

_“Look,” she threw her hands outwards, “I can do this too!” There was a bright blue light and sparkling crystals filled the air around her. Tiny wisps of ice that danced and swirled before forming a picture of a dog. “I made it for Ver when she hurt her leg,” she told him. Then she laughed and danced with It and then turned to him with expectant eyes._

_“That was very good Bernie” he ruffled her hair, “And your mother and I can teach you so much more, I can’t wait to show you and your sisters everything you can do”_

_She clapped her hands, “And then I can make an entire zoo for Ver!”_

_He agreed, “Yes, you can”_

_He left her to her playing, making her promise not to try magic without supervision and went to the office where Salem stood. He had to tell her the truth. He should have told her a long time ago._

* * *

He woke to see another girl, standing at the foot of his tree. She was freckled, with dusky brown hair that was barely held back by the crown of flowers resting on her head. Again, he asked for an explanation.

She replied cheerily, “My name is Spring. I am on a journey and I am waiting for my sisters”

He nodded and then sank back into his chair, slamming the window shut. A few seconds later there was a tap tap tap. He looked up. Spring was stood outside. She waved. He opened it and she said:

“As a thank you for letting us wait in your garden, would you let me fix up your garden?” She gestured to the broken old fence and the pile of mud and weeds. “It is rather a mess”

He shrugged. “If you want to”

She clapped her hands and dashed off. For the rest of the day, he watched as she worked tirelessly on the mess that she called a garden. Her semblance seemed to be to make plants grow, because as the sun was going down the compost pile had already been replaced by plants that were beginning to bloom. The fence was fixed and newly painted, and the overgrown bushes had been neatly pruned. He stared at the explosion of colour his garden had become in one day.

That night, it was still in his thoughts, and he pictured it on the ceiling as he drifted into sleep.

_She approached him shyly, both hands behind her back._

_“What have you got there Ver?” He asked, leaning forward. She froze and stiffened._

_“Nothing”_

_He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”_

_She blushed. “Well, it’s actually a surprise, for you and mommy, to thank you for bringing me toto”._ _The small stuffed dog that they’d seen at a market one day had been bought on a whim, but Ver clung to the little black dog everywhere she went, she’d even tied a red ribbon around its neck, embroidered with her name. So, nobody stole it or thought it was their dog._

_He put on a serious face. “Well, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of a surprise, now would I?”_

_S_ _he shook her head vehemently._

_"Shall I go get mommy?” He asked, straightening. She nodded passionately and so he went and found her. Then he dragged her to where Ver stood waiting. He Ignored her questions about where they were going, instead just winking, and telling her it was a surprise. She rolled her eyes but followed him anyway. When they arrived, she presented them with a small bunch of flowers, neatly tied in a yellow ribbon and said,_

_"Thank you for toto”_

_Salem’s eyes twinkled and she accepted the flowers graciously, then she turned to him._

_“I thought you were giving me a surprise”_

_He spread his arms and shrugged, “Technically I never said that”_

_She put a hand on her hip and tilted her head._

_“But,” he amended, “a surprise can be arranged”_

_“Good” she said and glided away._

* * *

The next morning, he continued to marvel at his garden, which Spring was still working on determinedly. He could have watched it all transform for hours, were it not for the unfamiliar laughter he heard from beneath the tree. Another woman stood next to where Winter was sat. Spring put down her tools and went over to join them. He opened his window and asked for her name.

“My name is Summer,” she said, “I am on a journey and I am waiting for my sister”

“Of course,” he replied, wondering why he expected anything else, and left the window open this time, leaning out to watch the bees as they explored his garden. There was another chirp of laughter from the tree.

“What on Remnant is so funny?” He questioned.

She walked over to the window, “I don’t mean to offend, but it’s you I find funny,” she replied, “I just find it strange that you choose to view the world through such a small and dirty window when the door outside is right next to you”

Ozma stepped back. “I simply find that my staying inside tends to be best. For everyone.”

She frowned. “If you insist, but I don’t see what difference going into your garden would make, it’s the same as looking out of your window, only with fresh air and vitamin D.”

He shut the window after that, and spent the afternoon studying the floorboards again. But as he lay in bed that night he could not help but think of Summer’s words. They lingered as sleep began to weigh him down and he wondered whether she might be right.

_Small pink shoes peeked out from behind the armchair. He grinned._

_“I wonder where Esta could be?” He stood in the centre of the room and made a show of looking. There was a muffled giggle from the armchair. “Maybe she’s here?!” He lifted a sofa cushion. “Or maybe she’s here!” He levitated a small table. The giggles grew louder. “Or maybe…” he crept up to the armchair. “She’s here!”_

_He scooped her up and wrapped his arms around her. Then he began tickling her sides. She squealed and laughed, wriggling in his arms. He eased off and pulled her close. Her heart beat next to his._

_“Why were you hiding Esta?” He loosened the hug and watched her face. She bit her lip. “Esta?”_

_She pulled away and went over to the armchair. Then she brought something out. “I broke the picture.” The picture was a small stained-glass piece that had once sat in a small house under an unbroken moon. The only thing left from there. He took the pieces gently for her._

_She looked at him, “I was going to try and fix it but then I heard you coming, and I didn’t want you to be sad”_

_He sighed and put them down on the table. “Come here,” he pulled her back in for another hug, “I love you far more than a stupid piece of glass, and I’m far happier that you didn’t hurt yourself handling such a sharp object.”_

_Her small hands tightened on his back. “But what if you can’t fix it?”_

_“Then we can’t fix it,” he said, “I still have my girls, I think I’ll survive”_

* * *

Ozma woke determined. Summer was right, there was no reason he shouldn’t go into his own garden. Especially now that it looked so nice. He dressed and then went to the door. With a deep breath he turned the handle, opened the door, and stepped outside.

The sun shone down on him, so much warmer and present than it was through his window. The small breeze brushed through his hair and he felt more alive than he had in years. He spent the entire day outside, and as the day drew to a close, he and the sisters prepared a grand feast. Winter set the table, Spring provided the food, and Summer prepared the meal. As they sat down to eat Ozma was the happiest he’d been in centuries.

Then he noticed the woman standing patiently beneath his tree. He beckoned her forward.

“Please, join us, and tell me your name,” he asked.

“My name is Fall,” she said softly, “I am on a journey, and I am here to meet my sisters,” and then she asked, staring at him with wide green eyes. “Who are you?”

He sat for a second, unsure how to respond to the question. It had been so long since anyone had asked about him.

“Me?” He wondered, “Well I am but an old hermit. I have lived in these woods alone for centuries and I’m afraid my story is not very interesting, as I have no one to love and nothing to my name”

Fall looked around at everything that surrounded them. “But sir, do you not see? You have so much”

_“Dad, how come we have so much, and other people have nothing?” Big green eyes looked at him question. He sighed and sat down on a chair, beckoning her to sit down with him._

_“We’re lucky Autumn, we were born with advantages that others don’t have, that's all it is,”_

_She frowned and stared down at her intricately patterned dress, “That doesn’t seem very fair.”_

_“It’s not,” he sighed, “But your mother and I are trying to change that, and until we do,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “we should be thankful for all that we do have”_

_She nodded. “I guess we should, I do like our house and my dress a lot."_

He looked around at the house, the garden, the meal in front of him. He had more than some people, and he should be thankful for it, instead of lingering on all the awful things in the world. He looked back into Fall’s green eyes. And he should be doing more than lingering on old memories, there were old promises to keep. With that resolution made he turned to the sisters with a question he had had since Winter had sat beneath his tree.

"Why me?", he asked, "Why did the four of you choose to open my eyes? To share with me your gifts. Why am I so special?”

They all looked at each other and then back to him, identical perplexed frowns on their faces. Fall finally spoke,

"I beg your pardon sir, but we did not do these things for you because you were special. We do what we can, for everyone, because we are able."

Ozma was at a loss for words. He had only ever experienced such kindness once before. In four much younger sisters. They looked at him now, wide-eyed and expectant of a future that would never come. They could have done so much good with their gifts and their hearts, if only they had the time. He knew then what he had to do. He drew on all the power he had and gifted each of them with the powers his daughters would have had. When he was done, he looked at their shocked expressions and saw once more the four sisters who had visited him. 

“Take this gift and know now that you are able to do so much more,” he told them. They wasted no time in trying them out, careful in their experiments to avoid destroying his house. He watched as Winter created shapes of snowflakes in the air for her sisters and he knew the powers were in good hands.

One by one they left, armed with the elements, but before they did, they all promised him one thing, that they would come back and visit him each and every year. He smiled and nodded, promising that he would be there to meet them. When Fall waved her final goodbye, he turned and returned to his house.

Tiredness had sunk into his bones. He felt more lethargic and sluggish than he ever had. But he was content and happier than he had ever been. Giving the girls that much power had been the right thing to do but it had drained him greatly, and this body was already old and weary. He had met with death many times already. So, when he finally closed his eyes to sleep that night, overlooking the wonderful gifts they had given him, he knew that they would return next year to meet a new man.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> Ozma and Salem's children's names come from the latin names for the solstices and equinoxes.   
> So in order of appearence:  
> Hibernal (Winter) Solstice - Bernie   
> Vernal (Spring) Equinox - Ver (because Vernul is already a character)   
> Estival (Summer) Solstice - Esta   
> Autumnal (Autumn/Fall) Equinox - Autumn


End file.
